When we think about Hanukkah, we think about miracles — the miracle of Judah Maccabee, who fought for freedom against the Greek-Syrian oppressors. And the miracle of the single cruse of oil that miraculously burned for eight days and eight nights. These events occurred more than 2,000 years ago, in the 2nd century A.D. And as they have for millennia, Jews the world over have celebrated these miracles in a festival of lights known as Hanukkah.

Not that the little Village of Greenport, New York, can compete with the heroic deeds of Judah Maccabee. Certainly not. And yet, in a year not so long ago, in our quiet little maritime outpost on the east end of Long Island, could another Hanukkah miracle — just a little one — happen here?

It all started with a few sprinkles several days before Hanukkah. But the sprinkles rapidly escalated to showers, and ultimately into a deluge that soaked the earth and flooded the streets. And the forecast was even worse: thunderstorms with possibly dangerous lightning.

All day it rained, threatening the Hanukkah celebration planned to begin that night in Greenport’s Mitchell Park, where the lighting of the official village menorah would take place. Shul members were looking forward to the observance. Villagers, local dignitaries and officials had been invited to witness the event, and to participate in a joyous celebration afterward at the synagogue on Fourth Street. Yet the rain continued — all morning long, thunderously at noon, and relentlessly into the afternoon hours.

Now shul members and Greenport’s villagers, local dignitaries and officials are a hardy bunch, having endured questionable weather on past Hanukkahs — shivering in the icy winds that blow across Mitchell Park from Peconic Bay, standing amid snow squalls on wintry nights, and yes, from time to time, with umbrellas raised against light showers and damp mists. But heavy rain and thunderstorms? Surely only a miracle could save the event so meaningful to the Jewish people, and so anticipated by the shul members, the villagers, the dignitaries and the officials.

And it came to pass that the rain seemed less intense around 3 in the afternoon. Was it merely a light shower by 4? And maybe a mist at 4:30? Hopeful, the shul members, the villagers, the dignitaries, and the officials began to gather in Mitchell Park for the 5 o’clock ceremony. Would the rain hold off? Or would the celebrants find themselves drenched in a sudden downpour?

This is Hanukkah, a season of miracles. Could there be just one more? Nothing to compare with ancient history, but one in this lifetime — on a December night, in Greenport, New York, where the shul members, the villagers, the dignitaries and the officials had joined together with the Rabbi to recite the prayers, sing the songs, and witness the lighting of the official menorah in Mitchell Park — on a suddenly and surprisingly clear night.

And when it was over, the shul members, the villagers, the dignitaries and the officials walked the three blocks together to the synagogue on Fourth Street, noticing the Christmas decorations on the shops and buildings along the way, displayed in a spirit of ecumenical good will that is pervasive in Greenport among its shul members, its villagers, its dignitaries and officials.

At the synagogue, a klezmer band was tuning up, latkes were heating in the oven, and the community room was festooned in blue and white décor, complemented by gold, foil-shaped menorahs, chocolate coins and dreidels — the trappings of a festive Hanukkah celebration.

Meanwhile, the shul members, the villagers, the dignitaries and the officials began arriving. The rain had not poured down, but into the synagogue they poured, filling the room to overflowing. There was music. There was dancing. There was candlelight, and the latkes were plentiful. And still there was no rain — not until the last of the revelers had made their way home, and the shul members, the villagers, the dignitaries and the officials were asleep in their beds, under the pitter-patter of rain.

Happy Hanukkah to all.

—Sara Bloom